


And tell me if somehow some of it remained.

by Onecrazyfangirl



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Vignettes, finding eachother again, ft my theory about margarets reincarnation with little canon basis whatsoever, ish i mean, she got better, spoilers for ep 91, there is vague talk of canon typical death but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onecrazyfangirl/pseuds/Onecrazyfangirl
Summary: When you drop a stone into water the water ripples out from it, and the ripples are new and different and yet in so many ways the same.or small moments where deep down Margaret and Travis knew they had found eachother again.
Relationships: Margaret/Travis Matagot
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9





	And tell me if somehow some of it remained.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in a frenzy after ep 91, been thinking about changelily non stop, this is fine. 
> 
> As always I have to thank folks at the uwuru for helping me w ideas and general ecouragement (particurlary ash and liam for crying with me over this for like 3 days straight)
> 
> The title is from As It Was by Hozier, which is in the playlist ive had on repeat since last wednesday. 
> 
> also thanks to Rowan (DrowningInStarlight) my editor who makes literally all of this possible, thank you for always managing to know what lines i had trouble with and fixing them exactly the way i want to, somehow.

Travis knew it from the moment he’d seen her. There was no mistaking his Margaret. She seemed almost untouched by time, the same hazel brown eyes, the same curly brown hair, his Margaret dressed in white and green and gray.

For a moment, he called to her as if no time had passed. She looked at him with the same curious glance he had known so well. He felt a pang in his chest as she asked him who he was, and he shook the past off. It’s just fate playing cruel tricks on him.

Besides. It’d been almost two centuries, it’s possible his brain was simply projecting what he remembered of her onto the first person he saw that vaguely reminded him of her. That hurt, of course. He remembered a time when he believed that he could’ve recognized his wife blind or bound, by her smile or her voice.

But it certainly wasn’t a coincidence. He wasn't sure what luminary was behind this new twist, but at least it’s original. It doesn’t matter she has the same mole on her cheek, the same spring in her step, the same laugh.

Travis has become really good at not seeing what’s right in front of him.

-

Margaret doesn’t register that something is different for a while. Travis is an intriguing man, certainly brought to her for a reason. He’s special and broken and she’ss curious and a black lily.

It’s not, in fact, until they are sitting together, weaving a spell, and she asks for his name. There are plenty of people in the world who do not go by their names, and certainly it isn't odd for a man like Travis Matagot to have a pseudonym. She knows he’s lying before the fragile spell breaks, but doesn’t strike her too badly, she’s good at her job.

There’s a moment then she thinks: _William._ Right before he says it out loud.

The spell strengthens and she feels odd in her chest. Like a tight, old knot that she hadn't been paying attention to suddenly unravels.

Magic is weird sometimes, she thinks, dismissing it. In a way, she’s right.

-

Margaret’s childhood has always been spotty. As long as she can remember, it’d felt like hazy static. There are flashes of something, a river bank, a forest, the familiar laugh of Rusalka. There’s no pain tied to it, though, and she’d learnt to accept that sometimes things surrounding luminaries were incomprehensible.

Of course, even if she wasn’t sure exactly what role Rusalka or the River played in her life, but it remained one of the few things she was sure of, and so she would be known in the town she found herself to be a young woman 

“Ah, the river's daughter,” they’d tell her, with a slight wary apprehension.

“My name is Margaret,” she would say pleasantly, never knowing who gave her that name but knowing with bone deep certainty it was hers. She always managed to endear herself to most people she met.

She traveled quickly to Aurum, looking for work and purpose. She was, even then, already quite adept with magic and charm, aside from being deeply attuned to other people's emotions. When she learned of the teachings of black lilies, not only a job, but a belief and a way of life, she was immediately sold. It quickly became her life's work and passion. She believed that everyone deserved care, to heal. Her training went well, those years she spent more time becoming aware of her own emotions.

That’s when she realised the grief that she carried, like a gaping hole in her chest. It had always been there, but she was learning that everyone carried around pain that felt like an open wound. It was frustrating, this grief that felt more like longing, no reason for it, just… there. After so long, it had become almost comforting, like a gentle tether, even if she didn’t know to what.

She asked the luminaries for guidance one day, if they could clue her in on the reason for her longing. Three cards she pulled from the deck: The Changeling, The River, The Union.

It felt like an odd combination to understand her grief. The Union and The River could speak of a barrier to a connection of some kind? The Changeling perhaps signifying desire, an impulse? 

She was not aware, then, how the cards mocked her in the simplicity of the answer. There was no way for young Margaret to see what was right before her.

So she learned to live with a cobbled together knot of feelings in her chest. She didn’t repress it, she accepted it as a fact of living. It was simply like a melody she had always known.

-

When they kiss again for the first time something in their souls sings, and Travis knows. The kiss is light, warm, it manages to be just on the good side of desperate. It should hurt, but instead it just feels like coming back to a warm home after spending a day in the bitter rain. It can never be quite what it was once, when they were young and believed they were unstoppable, but Travis still looks at her and for a second he manages to forget where they are, when they are.

The pieces don't quite fall together, not yet, but somewhere in the man that has become Travis Matagot, William sings as they are together once more.

-

Margaret has kissed many people before. She’s even kissed people she harboured a great deal of affection towards, and every kiss is different— they always are. There’s a familiarity in this kiss, it's easy, it's well worn. It’s new all over again in its own way. Travis is the kind of man to worm himself into your heart despite yourself and despite himself. 

She doesn’t register the unraveling of thread in her chest, she exhales and it goes away and it's all just as natural as breathing. 

-

The days in Nordia go by quickly, and with the looming threat of the Mariner and the swiftness with which the ritual needs to be performed there’s no time to examine their own feelings towards each other.

But there are glimpses. There are always glimpses.

There’s the moment when Travis says “Her name was Margaret.” She can’t quite get over the way he says her name.

There’s the moment when Travis hears her laugh and knows that it’s still the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

There’s a moment when they cross a river and Margaret who has never been afraid of water, never water but always, always drowning, feels a quiet and deep fear. There’s Travis' hand in hers and his determined promise: “I won’t let go of your hand.” She trusts him, wholly and completely. There’s a moment where he trusts her, which lets her cast her spell and protect them from the water. This time, this time they cross.

-

It’s on the Uhuru that the moments become more frequent. By then, Travis has become an expert at keeping the two Margarets separate from each other in his mind. One still hurts to think about and the other is right in front of him, he takes what he can get. When you drop a stone into water the water ripples out from it, and the ripples are new and different and yet in so many ways the same. 

They sit on the floor together. It’s night and most people are asleep, but Travis’ sleeping schedule has never been what you’d call normal, and being human at night has shattered the last of the routine altogether. It’s a quiet night, Margaret stays up with him for no real reason. They’re both pleasantly tipsy. 

He’s tired, in the nice, well worn way that follows a good day, and he’s smiling openly in a way that’s so rare for him. They’re talking about something that will be inconsequential in the morning, and what matters is that there is a strand of hair loose from Travis’ ponytail.

Almost absentmindedly, she reaches to tuck it behind his ear, and when he realises what she’s doing, he giggles. She almost can’t believe it, Travis Matagot giggling. She holds her hand to his cheek and presses a kiss right beneath his eye.

He smiles at her. “What was that for?”

She’s not sure herself, so she just sighs. “For being cute sometimes.”

His offended look doesn’t quite achieve what he’s hoping because of the creeping blush on his neck.

-

Sometimes there are parties on the Uhuru. They’re corsairs on their way to collect a lot of money, but it’s a long journey and they’ve got to do something. The crew get antsy otherwise. So parties it is. 

This time Travis is moping on the side. Gable has given up on convincing him to join and has opted instead to spin around with Jonnit in their arms. Sometimes Travis just gets in the mood to be contrary and there is no fighting him on it.

Or well, that’s what everyone else thinks, but Margaret is stubborn and not above using unorthodox methods for Travis to have a good time.

“Come on, Travis,” she says taking his hand.

“I don’t want to,” he says, pouting.

She knows he’s lying, being frustrating on purpose. She fights the eyeroll and smirks instead. She brings his hand to her mouth and kisses his knuckles softly.

“I know you’re just being difficult,” she says softly, enjoying seeing his brain short circuiting for a moment. The way he looks at her, just a little wide eyed. She presses a kiss on his palm before gently tugging him. “Are you going to stop being such a killjoy, dear?” 

Travis can only think how he was never able to say no to that look of hers. He stands up reluctantly and makes a big show of sighing and whining about it.

They fall into a dance that feels familiar, but they still have to learn the steps all over again. They twirl around, holding each other's hands, and tripping over each other's feet. He smiles despite himself.

“Wow,” Jonnit comments, as the party progresses, “You made Travis change his mind, Margaret, I don’t know if you’re aware how hard that is.”

She sees Travis turn bright red. He tries to pull her away, dance somewhere away from his friends, but she’s stronger than he is.

“Oh, I am aware,” she says. 

“How did you do that?” says Gable, sounding genuinely impressed.

“Who’s to say?” Travis says, just a little too quickly.

-

After the fire, after Dref, they’re all sitting in Dref’s office together. It’s night and Jonnit is practically asleep in Gable’s lap, as they sit in quiet contemplation.

Travis is lounging on a chair, legs propped up on the armrest and he’s picking at the skin around his nails. Margaret is drumming her fingers on the desk, vaguely unnerved by Travis pulling at his skin so vigorously.

“Could you stop doing that, Travis?” she says, not unkindly.

“Hmm?” he says, not stopping.

“You could get a small infection, you know,” she tries.

He rolls his eyes. “You always say that to me, Margaret, and as always, it won't matter in a few hours.”

She knows her pet peeve is slightly illogical, and she knows how the argument will go, has always gone. He’ll be difficult, she won’t quite be able to explain why it bothers her.

“I haven’t ever heard her say that that to you,” Gable remarks distractedly.

She sighs. “I just don’t like to see you hurt yourself,” she says. It's a quiet confession, as she’s aware that he isn’t really hurting at all, it's just a silly little thing that makes her uneasy.

He stares at her for a little too long, and he doesn’t sigh or roll his eyes. And this time the outcome changes. This time, he grabs his deck of cards and starts shuffling them instead.

They don’t say anything, but they lock eyes, and there is a small moment of acknowledgement between them. 

They’ve changed, mostly for the better.

-

He transforms with such ease these days, bearing the pain so much better than he used to.

He wouldn’t let anyone see him, before, and certainly not his Margaret. There’s nothing worse than the grief of standing helpless to prevent the pain of someone you love, and he wouldn’t let inflict that on her. She always convinced him to let her hold him afterwards, though, as he sat again in a body that didn’t quite feel his.

Now the night comes and it never even creeps into his mind to ask her to leave.

“Does it still hurt?” she asks.

He rolls his brand new shoulders, the bones cracking a little.

“Well it's not what I would call fun, but.” he says, then shrugs.

She lays a hand on his shoulder, a not quite sad smile on her face.

“Well, at least it’s better now.”

_A lot is better now,_ he thinks.

-

“Stop moving so much,” Margaret says, with a smile in her voice.

Travis sighs. He enjoys the bright colour and tiny detailing she’s applying on his nails but he’s also allergic to sitting still.

“I always do it much faster,” he complains.

“Well, you do have to do it every day, I suppose.”

“That’s exactly why letting you draw black lilies in them was a mistake,” he says “They’ll be gone by the morning!”

She doesn’t look up from her precise handiwork. “Even if they aren’t permanent doesn’t mean they don’t have value now, love.”

That phrase sinks into Travis’ mind, as he stares at Margaret slightly bent over, tongue sticking out, agonizing over a black lily motif on his nails.

He’s fallen in love with her again. Somehow the thought doesn’t make him flinch.

-

There isn’t a single, thundering moment where Travis starts thinking of Margaret as a constant. It had been a creeping thing, so slow Travis hadn’t even realized.

The closest there had been was an unassuming conversation. 

It’s a warm day and Margaret has long since given up reading the book in her hands. Travis is coiled around her neck in snake form, distracting her.

“Do we have any plans, after N’goni, I mean?” she says. 

“Well it’s not my ship, now is it, Margaret,” Travis says.

“Well pardon me for imagining there might be places you still want to visit,” she says, grinning up at his face on her shoulder.

“I did promise Jonnit, I would go to Akaron with him. So we’ll go there, I suppose,” he says, eventually.

“Never heard of that one before.”

“It’s his hometown.” 

“Aw, Matagot,” she says teasingly, “That is almost uncharacteristically sweet of you.”

Snakes can’t blush, but Travis coils around her tighter and hides his gaze in her hair. “I thought I was going to be mortal soon, okay?” he mumbles into her hair.

She runs her hands down the scales closer to her. “Well I am sure we will have a lovely time there,” she says, smiling. “I’m glad my work can be done everywhere.”

A comfortable silence washes over them, eventually Margaret goes back to reading, and Travis basks in her warmth and comfort.

If there have been another person in the room, they might have called the two of them out on the amount of times they’d used the word “we”. But it's just the two of them, not quite realising the thing they have been quietly rebuilding together. Not quite realising it finally feels like they can breathe again.

-

Margaret can’t quite remember it, but she knows, she knows on their wedding day they had made a promise.

Margaret hadn’t been aware she was dead, only aware she was still fighting a river, a different river and she was fighting it in soul if not in body. The current was unbelievably strong, but she wasn’t going to be pulled down and away by the Mariner, of all things. She’d fought with tooth and claw, holding onto her promise to William like a liveline, a tether. Anchoring her to her life and feeling. She wasn’t ready to go, and she was ready to move heavens or raise hell for it.

Sometimes if you fight long enough, strong enough, determined enough, even a puny little mortal caught between life and death on a technicality could catch the gaze of lumin’s eye.

“Do you wish to see him again, is that it? Trying to move us with a tale of spurned love?” 

She’s not sure who’s asking.

She isn’t quite sure about anything anymore.

She is losing herself, but if she knows something it’s that she will get out and that she’s Margaret and she’s in love.

“You misunderstand,” she manages to choke out, “He’s the one keeping me here, helping me fight, he’s my rope upon which I will climb out of here.” 

He never truly let go of her hand.

Something, someone, many things laugh.

Time has no meaning in the river, and yet it still manages to feel like an eternity before she pulls herself out of the river at the edge of a forest.

-

It's always in the quiet moments of solitary contemplation that you’re able to confront things.

Margaret stares out of the window in her room of the Goose. She doesn't break down crying, but she lets the cold shock wash over her like waves. Her William had been out there all this time, and all this time he hadn't let her go.

He didn’t have to hold on so tight anymore. She was here now, with the tight thread of a promise still between them. He would find her, when he was ready, when he could.

She was going to take some time off, to think. For years now, she’d been secure in her life, but this is different. New and old. Complicated and yet simple. It would certainly be a fun set of threads to unravel, if they were not her own. 

She smiles down at the letter anyway. She trusts Travis, she trusts herself, and she knows that there’s no force on Speir that could come between them. 

-

Travis finally lets himself know what’s been there in back of his mind for a long time. He’s been so very good at not looking at it. 

Alone in his bunk, he raises his fingers to his mouth where she had kissed him, and with trembling fingers he brushes his lips. His long lost lover. He tugs lose the hair ribbon she’d given to him and stares at it.

A million emotions he's never had the words for flood him. He's relieved! He's happy she's out there, that she knows that he'll come look for her when he’s able to. He's afraid of losing her again, he's terrified he’s already lost her. There’s a century of grief he hasn't quite yet processed, he's worried about the fact that this might all be a trick, but also, he’s in love, ecstatic thundering love in his chest. It almost erases all other thoughts from his brain.

Tonight, they each look up at the same sky. There are so many worn promises strung between them and now, this brand new one joins their ranks, fragile and full of hope for the future.

He looks out onto the chaos of the starry night outside, tears full of so many things falling from his eyes. Finally, he exhales. 

He isn't drowning anymore, and either is she.

**Author's Note:**

> I just need everyone to know that I struggled imensly with the scene where Margaret pulled herself out of the river, my eventual inspiration was episode 170 of the magnus archives and the scene in "The Last Olympian" from the percy jackson series where Percy pulls himself out of the river Styx. Very Margaret Vibes imho.


End file.
